Pandarus

Friend, you! pray you, a word: do you not follow the young Lord Paris?

Servant to Paris

Ay, sir, when he goes before me.

Pandarus

You depend upon him, I mean?

Servant to Paris

Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

Pandarus

You depend upon a notable gentleman; I must needs praise him.

Servant to Paris

The lord be praised!

Pandarus

You know me, do you not?

Servant to Paris

Faith, sir, superficially.

Pandarus

Friend, know me better; I am the Lord Pandarus.

Servant to Paris

I hope I shall know your honour better.

Pandarus

I do desire it.

Servant to Paris

You are in the state of grace.

Pandarus

Grace! not so, friend; honour and lordship are my titles. What music is this?

Servant to Paris

I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.

Pandarus

Know you the musicians?

Servant to Paris

Wholly, sir.

Pandarus

Who play they to?

Servant to Paris

To the hearers, sir.

Pandarus

At whose pleasure, friend?

Servant to Paris

At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.

Pandarus

Command, I mean, friend.

Servant to Paris

Who shall I command, sir?

Pandarus

Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly and thou too cunning. At whose request do these men play?

Servant to Paris

That's to't indeed, sir: marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who is there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heartblood of beauty, love's invisible soul, —

Pandarus

Who, my cousin Cressida?

Servant to Paris

No, sir, Helen: could not you find out that by her attributes?

Pandarus

It should seem, fellow, thou hast not seen the Lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes.

Servant to Paris

Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase indeed!

Pandarus

Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen! fair thoughts be your fair pillow!

Helen

Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

Pandarus

You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Paris

You have broke it, cousin: and, by my life, you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full of harmony.

Pandarus

Truly, lady, no.

Helen

O, sir, —

Pandarus

Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude.

Paris

Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits.

Pandarus

I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word?

Helen

Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you sing, certainly.

Pandarus

Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with me. But, marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus, —

Helen

My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord, —

Pandarus

Go to, sweet queen, go to: — commends himself most affectionately to you, —

Helen

You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your head!

Pandarus

Sweet queen, sweet queen! that's a sweet queen, i' faith.

Helen

And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence.

Pandarus

Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you will make his excuse.

Helen

My Lord Pandarus, —

Pandarus

What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen?

Paris

What exploit's in hand? where sups he to-night?

Helen

Nay, but, my lord, —

Pandarus

What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out with you.

Helen

You must not know where he sups.

Paris

I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida.

Pandarus

No, no, no such matter; you are wide: come, your disposer is sick.

Paris

Well, I'll make's excuse.

Pandarus

Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.

Paris

I spy.

Pandarus

You spy! what do you spy? Come, give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen.

Helen

Why, this is kindly done.

Pandarus

My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet queen.

Helen

She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris.

Pandarus

He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain.

Helen

Falling in, after falling out, may make them three.

Pandarus

Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a song now.

Helen

Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.

Pandarus

Ay, you may, you may.

Helen

Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid!

Pandarus

Love! ay, that it shall, i' faith.

Paris

Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love.

Pandarus

Sings.

Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more!

For, O, love's bow

Shoots buck and doe:

The shaft confounds,

Not that it wounds,

But tickles still the sore.

These lovers cry O! o! they die!

Yet that which seems the wound to kill,

Doth turn o! o! to ha! ha! he!

So dying love lives still:

O! o! awhile, but ha! ha! ha!

O! o! groans out for ha! ha! ha!

Heigh-ho!

Helen

In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose.

Paris

He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love.

Pandarus

Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers: is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's afield to-day?

Paris

Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not?

Helen

He hangs the lip at something: you know all, Lord Pandarus.

Pandarus

Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse?

Paris

To a hair.

Pandarus

Farewell, sweet queen.

Helen

Commend me to your niece.

Pandarus

I will, sweet queen.

Paris

They're come from the field: let us to Priam's hall,

To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you

To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,

With these your white enchanting fingers touched,

Shall more obey than to the edge of steel

Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more

Than all the island kings, — disarm great Hector.

Helen

'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris;

Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty

Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,

Yea, overshines ourself.

Paris

Sweet, above thought I love thee. Exeunt.